#murtagh bear quinn

[leathfaic]

I can take over the world because you're mine

"Dare." 

“Fuckin’ again?” 

Bear shrugged at Daithí's exasperated expression “No rules against picking the same answer a few times in a row.”, ignoring Vice’s “Oh you are an arsehole and should be glad I like you so much” noise. It was something between an annoyed huff and a snicker and she had it down perfectly, it did its job every time, making Bear incredibly glad to be loved by someone like Vice and feel a little called out. Leaning to the left they pressed a quick kiss to Daithí’s pouting face before snatching the bottle back and taking a hefty swig.

To be fair ‘a few times’ was relative, Bear was aware they hadn’t picked anything else all night. Had been subjected to a few of Vice’s creative ideas for it too. Taking a shot while standing on their hands. Guessing how many fags were left in Daithí’s pack (easy, none since Bear had stolen the last one hours ago.). Were pretty sure they also had to do Daithí’s laundry for a whole month. As if the sneaky fucker didn’t already put some of his into both their and Vice’s laundry basket. Acting all surprised when he was handed the clean clothes back. Not that Bear really minded, sighing and exchanging a knowing look with Vice whenever it happened. Now they just had an official excuse. But with all of them, Bear had successfully dodged having to reveal any embarrassing truths so far. 

“Fine, a dare then, pick something else.” he leaned in and pressed a kiss of his own to Bear's cheek. 

Proving that Bear's quick distraction hadn’t worked on him at all.  Instead, there was that flicker in his eyes that he always got when he challenged Bear. That warranted another big gulp and a contemplative stare at the label. The label stared back, Tullamore Dew Honey, a bottle that had ended up in Bear's hands not at all by accident. Same with the bottle of Jameson that was currently pointing accusingly at Bear had found its way into Daithí’s. 

The last deployment had been a crushing success, a mission of unusual size putting all able operators into the field and everyone else into a field base to ensure it would run as smoothly as possible.  

The entirety of the Apocrita in motion was a sight to behold and a terror to confront. Their enemies never had a chance, just the way Bear liked it. 

No casualties on their side either, something else Bear liked very much. The worst injuries were scratches, bruises, and minor cuts. Many had been limping but seemed fine already. 

So they did the only thing that was left to do after coming home, got out of gear that had been worn at least three days too long, showered and bitched about small things. And then without previous agreement assembled in the gym, the largest common room on the base, and celebrated what they’d done. 

It was an awkward affair at first, until someone, Aspen? Badger?, had the good sense to get everyone a bottle of one of their preferred poisons in hand. 

Suddenly shoulders sagged, and stress melted away. It wasn’t even everyone drinking, but the initial relaxation was enough to drag everyone along, even if it was just hot cocoa in their hands. Maybe not the healthiest way to deal with post-op tension, but if you had to get an entire base coming down with it at once, certainly an efficient one. If nothing else most of them would sleep soundly tonight.

By now most of the party had dissolved, and Daithí’s drink ended up mostly in him and Bear, Vice preferring whatever American thing she was drinking. Whatever it was it kept her a disgusting level of sober in Bear's eyes. And yet it had been Vice, all big puppy eyes dragging them to an empty room giddy with excitement when she proposed the game and Daithí had just wordlessly taken the last swig of Jameson putting the bottle down between them. Both looking at Bear who’d been about to explain that spin-the-bottle sounded so fucking childish. Who had sat down instead because fuck it, those were their lovers and they were nothing if not putty in their hands anyways. So maybe it was childish, or maybe that was the all-famed German seriousness sounding off and about to push a stick up Bear's arse, who fucking knew. 

A long look at Daithí, then at Vice. Both of them looked back expectantly. “Fine, fuck, Wahrheit.” they growled. It was ridiculous how the two of them made Bear crumble. How their heart did a little leap at the joined cheers. 

“So that one is easy honey,” Vice was way too quick on the draw with that, probably prepared it well ahead “Mommy or Daddy issues? Which one is it for you?”

Bear just stared. And then opted to drink again. Remembering that it had been Vice’s turn to dare them from the start. So much for Daithí and distractions. 

“Both actually.”

Dai inserted his hand between Bears and the bottle, stealing the drink away. Fair considering they were sharing this like they had the other whiskey before. Terribly rude considering Bear's dramatic need to drink between every spoken sentence.

“It’s stupid and dramatic and you definitely need to get me again with that bottle before I tell you that bullshit.” 

“Alright chief sounds like a lot to unpack, but I’ll make sure to remember that.” Vice gave them one of her winks that had Bear roll their eyes and grin before she added in a softer tone “But only if you do wanna talk about it.” leaned over for a quick reassuring kiss.

Bear just shrugged. "Dai's guaranteed to get a fucking kick out of it and you're going laugh your arse off. It's fine." 

They finally leaned forward to spin the bottle again. 

Don't you fucking dare stop right here again. 

The bottle, wiser than one would expect from an inanimate piece of glass skidded past bears position as it came to a stop, pointing slightly to the left of Daithí, but clearly still on him. 

"Wahrheit oder Pflicht?" 

Daithí smiled back wide, "Just to show you that it doesn't hurt mo chroi, I'll take Truth."

Bear wanted to groan. Wanted to hide their face in Vice's shoulder and tell her how unfair it was that Dai managed to make their stomach flip with his endearment. Only that would mean they'd be so close to Vice that that would get them too, her warmth, her smell, the persistent hint of engine oil that made Bear consider rolling around in a substance definitely not designed for it.

Fuck, the whiskey was definitely getting to them. Who the fuck thinks about rolling in fucking engine oil while having romantic thoughts. Fucking ridiculous.

"What's the story behind that one?" Bear leaned forward, pushing their own thoughts aside and pointing at the spot they knew to hold the tattoo on Dai's left bicep. 

It showed a bottle with a ship on rough waves in it and a person that had either fallen or crawled halfway through the bottle's neck with only their legs and arse sticking out.

Bear loved it. Loved the fucking whimsy of it, loved tracing the lines of the waves when Dai fell asleep between them and Vice. But they'd never asked about it. Might as well now, the mood was about to drop either way soon.

"Ah, always loved Alice in Wonderland." he smiled weakly and took a swig from the bottle. "Was a nice fantasy world to flee to when home was…wasn't fun. Thought I'd have my own little potion bottle to carry around with me." 

His words were full to the brim with unspoken, unhealed hurt and Bear felt the need to launch themself across the space between them. 

"Hey," Vice's voice interrupted Bears thoughts "You told me it was a bottle of Jack Daniels the first week here." 

Daithí’s sadness vanished, immediately replaced with a mischievous grin. 

"Why did Bear get the truth and I didn't you little fuck?" 

Bear leaned back, smiling and letting the gentle bickering commence.

"Because I have known them for more than three days now! And because it's funny when random people believe it and start interpreting that mo chuisle." 

Vice huffed, trying not to be immediately pacified by the pet name and obviously failing. 

"Used to tell civvies in Germany that the one on my thigh was a sex thing." Bear grins, granting Vice a few more seconds to seem unbothered. "Always worked, especially considering the fact I was usually gone in the morning.”

“Filthy-mouthed liars, the two of you.” Vice mumbles, still accusingly but also leaning over to kiss Dai on the arm, where the fabric hid the tattoo and then on the mouth, still trying for a pouty smile but quickly losing that battle.

And Bear is still too occupied with smiling warmly and widely, feeling the damn butterflies in their stomach do loops when looking at the two of them, to even consider threatening the bottle that Dai spins it again. 

That turns out to be a mistake. It’s like the damn thing can fucking smell their moment of distraction. 

“Oh darling,” Vice is definitely back to fully amused, “I don’t think you can scare it into moving more.” Well maybe not, but Bear can certainly try. Technically it would move if kicked, couldn’t point anywhere when shattered right?

Could see Dai open their mouth to assure them it was fine if they didn’t want to talk about it no doubt. Couldn’t have that though, Bear considered themself lots of things but certainly not a coward. 

“Truth it is.” 

They just held out their hand and Dai, bless his soul, handed the bottle back with no hesitation. Bear let the honey sweetness and the smoothness of the whiskey wash over their tongue, watching their lovers exchange a look, glancing back at them, then looking at each other again. 

Almost sweeter than the honey in their drink, their concern about hurting Bear. In the beginning, the care had been almost irritating, something they had decided they’d never feel again. Vice could never have known that though and even if Daithí knew parts of it. If. Even he wouldn’t have been able to understand. 

And so they smashed through all of Bear's walls like they were paper thin and Bear, who’d already been fighting a feeling of belonging with the whole new force they were assigned to had been overpowered and outmatched. Fucking flanked. Point blank shot by cupids arrow. The little bastard even double-tapped. Probably instinct since the last projectile stuck in Bear really hadn’t done a great job. 

Outgunned like that even Bear had to admit that fighting was for once, not the way to go. Love is the sweetest surrender and all that bullshit. 

Daithí sighed, somewhere between exasperation and fondness when Bear blinked back from their brief swooning session, sure that it had been painted all over their face, “What the fuck is up with all those parental issues love?” 

“Short version is I ruined my father's life and forced my mum to be a mother which was the last thing in all existence that she should have been, or wanted to be really.” 

Bear could feel the urge to keep drinking build up and instead passed the bottle to Vice, who took a small sip before she grimaced and handed it to Daithí immediately. 

“So the part that sounds like a bad sitcom is my father, yeah?” Unbidden their father's face came to mind all red tousled hair and blue eyes, always looking sad. Yeah, no wonder that. 

“He’s the Irish one,” they knew that already but it mattered so Bear just went on “grew up all proper catholic. Was really into it too. More than most people are. Always had one dream when growing up, wanted to become a priest, or bishop if he could. Hell, I don’t fucking know, might have been shooting for Pope in his little catholic daydreams.”

There was a look of confusion on Vice’s face now that was only matched by the one of foreboding on Daithís.

Without even thinking Bear took the bottle back and made the swig count before handing it to Vice.

“Had it all laid out too, proper catholic school, got into the Trinity College in Dublin, guaranteed a spot in seminary when his bachelor was done. Should have gone swimmingly.” 

Und das war des Pudels Kern, es hätte alles glattgehen sollen. Nicht das Konjuktive hilfreich waren wenn Bärs ganz eigene Magie im Spiel war. 

“They did some exchange programme, you know, get the weans out to see the world before they swear themselves off to their god. Freshly reunited Germany, deepest Rhineland-Palatine, all nice and conservative. Got some fine old churches to ogle too. Stayed in a lovely little town called Kusel. Not the biggest but it turns out there was a disco that the local youths frequented.” 

Somehow the bottle was offered from their left again, Bear didn’t even question it, drank and kept it. 

“Kinda easy to see where this is going, even theology students go for a dance sometimes. And sometimes they get drunk. And drunk people tend to forget how dedicated they are to god and might just hook up with an equally drunk girl. Not even 18 and equally as stupid as her male counterpart.”

At least Bear couldn’t fault their father, they knew the pictures her mother kept of her youth. She’d been stunning before constant anger painted permanent lines on her. Light blond hair to her thighs, bright blue eyes, her full lips always smiling back then.

“Da made it back none the wiser, went back to his studies until he suddenly gets called into the dean's office, gets asked all these very pointed questions. Turns out a very upset German woman had called and ripped him a new one. Something about one of their students impregnating her daughter.” 

Bear couldn’t help the disdainful noise that slipped from their lips. The issue could have ended there with a quick doctor's visit, but of course, it didn’t. 

“Both families are awfully traditional. Abortion was never an option. Instead, my father got the bollocking of the century at home, dean had informed his parenrs the second the story had been confirmed. Of course, he had to marry the girl too, she’d already brought enough shame to her family by getting pregnant by a stranger. They were both too scared and young to really say no, got married a month later, all proper catholic too.” 

The amused sound from Daithí’s side made them smile, and they handed the almost empty bottle back after sipping again.

“Can’t be a catholic priest if you’re married. Or divorced for that matter. Not that it mattered, the family would have torn him to pieces if he’d considered divorce. So my father got stuck with a lifetime of regrets and ‘what-ifs’ over a few too many. My mum got told she was the victim so often she just took to it, probably wasn’t that hard with all the trauma of the situation. Only she genuinely liked my father for what it's worth, so as soon as she had someone else to blame she did. ‘Biggest mistake of their lives’” Bear raised their hand mockingly like they were in school “That would be me. Made sure I knew it too. Father dearest buried himself in his work, trying not to be where he clearly didn’t want to be. Mum took matters more into her hands though, words didn’t quite do it for her I guess.” 

Silence hung in the room, heavy and consuming. They could see their lovers trying for words. Words Bear really didn’t want to hear. 

“It didn’t get better when I didn’t turn out like the little princess my mother had wanted as a consolation prize either. Was mostly shit honestly. At some point, my granddad spotted the bruises, probably at my gran's wake, got my father bollocking of the next century he had the unfortunate luck to be in. They got so loud I could hear them from my room on the 3rd floor even though they were in the kitchen. Undeserved too the poor man. But he must’ve relayed at least parts of it. They were constantly talking when we got back home. Never got another bruise from home again. Still wasn’t great, I mean fuck I thought I’d found heaven when I joined the army and felt they were fucking welcoming.” 

Sighing Bear continued, closing their eyes because it wasn’t getting better at this point, not at all. 

“Seems all the talking did something for them, ignited a spark that they’d ignored for 15 years or something. Got really really close again. And bam mums pregnant again. But this time they’d actually tried. That’s where the twins entered the picture. Love the shitheads but fuck, that stung more than any backhand ever could. Seeing them be a loving family all together, how they felt silent when I entered the room, disturbing the beautiful picture.”

There's a hand on their back and Bear knows it’s Vice because it’s coming from their right and because there is the faintest note of motor oil in the air.

“Watched them like a fucking hawk until I left, and every time I made it home after. But they were good with them. No hidden bruises. No nothing, just a happy little family and the weird mistake they’d made disturbing their peace. So I stopped going back and since then they’re just that. Saw them a few times for other family stuff. Grandad usually didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer or ‘I’m stationed in a fucking desert right now’ for that matter. Kept my distance though, better that way. Maybe the twins will reach out at some point, or not. Might be dead when they get to that point.”

Twin protesting noises tugging at Bears heart in perfect synchrony.

“I’m fucking kidding, you know they don’t make bullets that kill me yet.”

When they opened their eyes again Daithí sat next to them close as he could be without touching, just silently offering. There were no tears, no nothing really, the hurt was old, like a scar that caused weird phantom pains. It had long since been buried under more recent pains whose aches were much more prominent.

Bear was glad for the silence, didn’t know if they could take any soft words in that moment and keep their delicate equilibrium intact. It would shatter in a moment of seconds. People never just listened to something like this and sat tight.

Instead what they heard was the door being opened, and Bear found themself rising to their feet in a smooth motion that was fucking impressive for how drunk they knew they were. The instinct to confront whatever disturbed them momentarily overrode the intoxication. 

The reaction was barely warranted as Bear found themself confronted not with a thread but with a group of rather tipsy rookies. 

“Leffftenant!” the frontman of the group mumbled, rising panic clear in his voice even as the word came out slurred. And the fucking fact that despite all their training he missed the two other soldiers in the room. That would earn him a note in Bear's book of who needed to get whipped more into shape. Probably in the morning though, when writing was something they could do without thinking too hard. 

“Privates.” seniority in any army did wonders for the ability to not let your liquor show when addressing people by ranks, that and Bear's talent to roll r’s like they meant it.

“We’re so sorry, we’re just uhm…gonna be going?” he clearly wanted to run, but at least remembered himself well enough to wait for dismissal. 

One that Bear was about to gladly grant him when next to them Dai rose, equally steady. “Actually, Privates, we’re happy to leave the room to you, we were just about to head for a smoke anyways, weren’t we?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Vice opted for taking Dai's hand, all three of them filling the door frame now.

Bear watched in amusement how the man's eyes grew wider first at Daithí’s and then Vice’s appearance in his line of sight. Oh, he knew he’d fucked up. 

“Lieutenant, Sargeant,” he mumbled sounding downright defeated. 

“Oh don’t let us spoil your evening,” Vice laughed “I’m sure Lieutenant Quinn will remind you of this soon enough so you might as well enjoy yourself while you can.” 

She stepped forward and the rookies parted like the red sea. Small mumbled “Yes Ma’ams” and “Sorry Ma’ams” escaped from all sides. 

Tempted to chuckle, Bear schooled their expression before following. Knowing that Dai would be right behind them.

They made their way down the corridor, only falling into step with each other when they were out of sight, almost outside, and securely out of earshot before Daithí sighed “Smoke is actually a grand idea, I’ve been craving one.” 

 “You’re out, sorry.” Bear reminded him and he groaned. 

“That’s why you have me.” Vice smiled wide, “Tell me how much you love me again?” 

“Endlessly, more every time you smile at me.” 

“Aw darling, you know how to make a woman weep.” a pack appeared from somewhere, so quickly that Bear knew they wouldn’t make it out, not when sober but especially not drunk like this, and Daithí kissed Vice before ripping the pack open. 

“And you?” Bear raised an eyebrow at the sudden attention, Vice expectantly smiling and walking the last few steps to the outside backwards so she could keep looking at Bear.

“I was planning to steal from Dai again, to be honest, but if you have something for me Ophe I might go on my knees on the spot.” 

Daithí’s fake protest in the background had Bear smile despite themself, but when Vice produced a familiar yellow packaging from the-gods-know-where they are close to making good on their promise. Of all the things Vice could have on her, it was a pack of Cohiba Club.

“Fucking hell.” There isn’t much else that wants to get out in the moment so Bear makes sure to put all their adoration into it.

Waits until they stop walking before carefully slicing the pack open with a knife, a stupid habit, not needed and technically wasteful. Sentimental to the tenth degree.

Offers both Dai and Vice one of the tightly rolled cigarillos before pulling out two at once. Nods to the fence, just out of the floodlights, a hiding place that Vice had originally claimed. Still, a good bet when looking for her. 

Unlike usual, Bear doesn’t lean against the fence but instead asks Vice for light. There is comfort in the three lighter clicks and Bear takes a deep drag before putting the first cigarillo in the fence, it will burn off slowly, like incense. 

Not quite how Vice did it, but perfect for Bear's own purposes. Doesn’t miss the looks from the other two. This time they just shake their head, even if they wanted to, this one is not on the menu. 

Instead, they let Vice light the rest, lighter clicking three times each, before they puff out more of the same spicy-sweet smoke.

When they notice the other two attempting to position themselves to either side they just gently herd them to their front, bury their nose in Daithí's hair and hold Vice close to their chest. 

Lack of sleep from the mission and the alcohol of the last few hours slowly creep up Bear's spine, they feel heavy and done. Switch positions at some point, resting their head on Vice and holding Dai close. Smile at the way the two of them hold hands, complicated by the cigarillos demanding attention every now and then.

“You know mo chroi, I think there are people who’d love to study the stupidly complicated level of religious trauma you caught, might make some actual money out there.” 

Something warm filled Bear's chest and before they could help it they were actually, full-on laughing. This upset the delicate balance of the already complicated three-way hug. 

A few seconds later they just gave up, all three of them laughing, about the fucking comment, the general situation and just because. 

Bear felt light and slightly stupid. Something deep inside them gave way, the last of the tension they’d been holding on to melting away. They might have their regrets, but tonight wasn’t one, not with Vice and Daithí still so close they all kept touching constantly. Still here and knowing Bear a little better, whatever that might mean down the line. 

They finished their smokes and silently found themselves in agreement that it was really time to head to bed. Preferably the closest one.

Bear let the other one take off and turned back for a moment, saluting both the sunrise and the remains of the cigarillo in the fence.

“Still kicking, Sir.” a single tear finally found its way out of their eye with that and a wink they turned around before they could be tempted to monologue a fucking burned-down cigarillo. Wiped the tear away and fell into a light jog to catch up with their two lovers.

[trans-and-baby-names]

Masculine Names

Aaron  Abdul Abe  Abel Abraham  Abram Ace Achilles  Adair Adam Adonis Adrian Adriel  Ahmed Ajax Ajay Aiden Alan Albert Alejandro Alex Alexander Alfonso Alfred Alistair Alister Allen  Alonzo Amadeo Amadeus Amani Amari Ambrose Amir Anders  Anderson Andre Andreas Andrew Andy Angel Angelo Angus Ansel  Anson Anthony Antonio Apollo Aries Archer Archie Aristotle Arlo  Arnaldo Arnold Arsenio Arthur Arturo Arwin Asa Asher Aslan Atlas  Atticus Aubrey August Augustin Augustine Augustus Aurelio Aurelius Austin Axel  Aziz

Balthazar  Bane Barnabas  Barnaby Barney Baron  Barrett Basil Bastian  Bear Beau Beck Ben Benjamin  Benji Bentley Bernard Bertram Bertrand  Blake Blaze Blue Bobby Bodhi Booker Boris  Boston Bowie Boyd Brad Bradford Bradley Bram  Bramwell Bran Brandon Brandt Braxton Braylen Brayden Brendon  Brent Brett Brian Briar Brick Bridge Bridger Brock Brody Brogan  Bronx Brook Brooks Bruce Bruno Brutus Bryce Bryson Buck Bud Buddha  Buddy Buck Burt Burton Buster Buzz Byron 

Cade  Caden Cain  Cairo Caius Calder  Caleb Callum Calvin Cam  Cameron Camillo Campbell Carl  Carlisle Carlito Carlo Carlos Carlton  Carmine Carson Carter Casper Caspian Cassian  Cassias Cato Cecil Cedar Cedric Cesar Chad Chadwick  Chance Charles Charlton Chase Chauncey Chester Chidi Chip  Christoff Christoph Christopher Christian Chuck Cian Cillian  Clarence Clark Claud Clay Clayton Cliff Clifford Clint Clinton  Clyde Coby Cody Colby Cole Collin Colt Colton Conan Connor Conrad  Constantine Cooper Copper Corbin Cornelius Cory Cosmo Cosmos Costas Craig Crispin Cruz Curt Curtis Cyrus

Dale  Dallas  Dalton Damien  Damon Dan Dane Daniel  Dante Darius Darrel Darren  Dash Dashiell Davey David Dawson  Dax Daxton Deacon Dean DeAndre Declan  Demetrius Denali Dennis Denny Denzel Derek  Derrick Des Desmond Dewey Dex Dexter Diego Diesel  Dion Dirk Dixon Dmitri Dominic Donatello Donovan Dorian  Doug Douglas Draco Drew Duke Duncan Dustin Dusty Dwayne Dwight  Dylan Dyson 

Earl  Easton  Edgar Edmund  Eduardo Edward Edwin  Egon Eli Elijah Elias  Elliott Ellis Elroy Elton  Emanuel Emeric Emerson Emery  Emil Emiliano Emmett Emrys Enrique  Enzo Eric Ernest Ernesto Ernie Esteban  Ethan Eugene Eustace Euvan Evan Evander Everett  Ezekiel Ezra 

Fabian  Fabio Falcon  Faustus Felix Ferdinand  Fergus Ferguson Fernando Fidel  Fido Finbar Findlay Finn Finnley  Fionn Fisher Fitz Fletcher Flint Florence  Florian Ford Forrest Fort Foster Fowler Fox  Francesco Francis Francisco Franco Frank Frankie  Franklin Fred Freddy Fredrick Frederico

Gabe  Gabriel  Gael Gage  Gale Galen Garfield Garrett Gaston Gatsby  Gavin Geoffrey Geordie George  Gerald Gerard Gideon Gil Gilbert  Gilberto Giovanni Glenn Gordon Gordy  Grady Graham Grant Gray Grayson Gregg  Gregory Grey Griffin Griffith Grover Gunner  Gunther Gus Gustavo Guy 

Hades  Hal Hamilton  Hank Hans Harley Harrison  Harry Hawk Hayden Hayes Heath Hector  Henrik Hendrix Henry Herb Herbert Herbie  Hercules Hermes Hershel Hiram Holden Howard  Howie Hudson Hugo Humphrey Hunter Hux Huxley 

Ian Igor Iker Irvin Isaac Isaiah Ivan 

Jace  Jack Jackson  Jacob Jaques Jaden  Jake Jalen Jamal James  Jameson Jared Jason Jax  Jay Jed Jedidiah Jefferson  Jeffrey Jeremiah Jeremy Jerome  Jerry Jesus Jethro Jett Jim Jimmy  Joe Joel Johan Johannes John Johnny Jonah  Jonas Jonathan Jones Jordan Jose Joseph Joshua  Josiah Juan Juanito Judah Judas Judd Jude Jules Julian  Julien Julio Julius Junior Jupiter Jurgen Justice Justin Justus 

Kaden  Kai Kaiser  Kale Kaleb Kane  Keane Keanu Keaton  Keegan Keenan Keith  Kellen Kenan Kendrick  Kenneth Kenzo Keoni Kevin Khalid  Kian Kieran Kiernan Kingsley Kingston Killian  Kip Kwan Kyle

Lachlan  Lake Lamar  Lance Lancelot  Landon Lane Larkin  Larry Lars Laurence Laurent  Lawrence Lawson Lazlo Legend Leif  Leith Leland Leo Leon Leonardo Leopold  Leroy Levi Liam Lincoln Linden Logan Loki  London Lonnie Lonny Lorcan Lorenzo Lou Louie  Louis Luc Luca Lucas Lucian Lucky Luke Lupe Luther

Maddox  Maksim Malachi  Malachy Malakai Malcolm  Malik Manfred Manny Marcel Marcello  Marcellus Marcio Marcius Marco Marcos  Marcus Marian Marino Mario Marius Mark  Marlin Marlon Marmaduke Marques Mars Marshall  Martin Marty Marvel Marvin Massimo Mason Matt Matteo  Matthew Maurice Maverick Max Maximilian Maximus Maxwell  Melvin Mercury Meredith Merritt Micah Michael Miguel Miles  Milo Mitchell Moe Monte Montgomery Murdoch Murphy Murray Murtagh  Murtaugh Myles

Nathan  Nathaniel  Ned Nelson  Nemo Neo Neon  Neptune Neville  Newt Newton Nick  Nicky Nicola Nicolai  Nicholas Niko Noah Noel Nolan  Norm Norman Novak 

Obadiah  Octavio Octavius  Odin Olaf Oleg Oliver  Olivier Omar Orion Orlando  Orville Osborn Oscar Oso Osvaldo  Oswald Ottis Otto Owen Oz Ozzy

Pablo  Palmer Panther  Parker Pascal Patrick Paul  Paxton Pedro Penn Percival Percy Perseus  Peter Peyton Phil Philip Phineas Phoenix Pier  Pierce Pierre Pilot Pluto Porter Poseidon Preston  Prince Prosper

Qadir  Quincy Quinn  Quinton 

Raiden  Ralph Ramone  Ramses Randall Randolph  Randy Raphael Ravi Ray Raymond Red  Reece Reggie Reginald Regis Reid Remington  Reuben Rex Reynald Reynaldo Reynard Rhett Rhys  Ricardo Richard Richie Richmond Rick Ricky Rico Ridge  Riley Rio Riordan River Robert Roberto Robbie Rocco Rocky  Rodney Rodrigo Roger Ricky Riley Rod Rodrick Roger Roland  Roman Romeo Ross Rowan Rudy Rufus Russell Ryder Ryker Rylan Ryland 

Salem  Salvador  Salvator Sam  Samir Sampson Samson  Samuel Sander Sandford Sanjay  Santiago Saul Sawyer Scott Sean Sebastian  Septimus Serge Sergio Seth Seus Seymour Shane  Shawn Shayne Sheldon Shepherd Sherlock Sherman Shin Sidney  Sigmund Silas Silver Silvester Simon Sinclair Sinjin Sirius  Slade Slate Sol Solomon Sonny Sparrow Spartacus Spencer Spike  Soren Stan Stanford Stanley Steele Stephen Steven Stevie Stone Sven Summit  Sullivan Sully Sylvester

Tad  Tag Talon  Tanner Tate  Ted Teddy Teo Teodor  Teodoro Terence Terrell  Terry Tex Thad Thaddeus Thane  Thatcher Theo Theoden Theodore Thomas  Thor Thorn Tiberius Tiger Tito Titus Timothy  Titus Tobias Toby Tommy Tony Topher Trace Travis  Trent Trenton Trev Trevor Trey Tristan Troy Truman Tucker  Tudor Tullio Tullius Tully Tycho Tyler Tyrell Tyrese Tyrone  Tyson

Uberto  Ulric Ulrich  Ulysses Uriah Urban Urijah  Uriel

Van  Vance  Vaugn Victor  Vince Vincenco Vincent  Vinny Virgil Vlad Vladimir 

Wade  Walden  Waldo Walker  Wallace Wally Walt  Walter Warner Warren  Watson Waylon Wayne Wendall  Wesley Westley Weston Wilbert  Wilbur Wilder Wiley Wilfred Will William  Winston Wolf Wolfe Wolfgang Woodrow Wyatt 

Xander  Xavier Xavion  Xenon

Yael  Yahir York Yosef  Yousef Yusef

Zac  Zach Zachariah  Zacharias Zachary Zack  Zander Zane Zayden Zeke  Zeus Ziggy Zion Zoltan

[renee-writer]

Of Her Dreams Chapter 27 A Child Is Born

“How about James Lambert?” She is huge( in her eyes) and has felt their child move. An occasion that brought tears of joy to both parents eyes. It also prompted this discussion of the child's name.

“I dinna need the bairn named after me.” Said as he strokes her over where they had felt the baby move.

“So do you have an idea?” She replies relaxing under his gentle touch. He smiles and drops a kiss on her lips before bending down to kiss his child.

“Aye, I do. Brian Lambert Henry Fraser. To honor all his patriarchy, aye?”

“Oh Jamie! Perfect.” They don’t discuss female names. So sure it will be a lad.

She spends time sewing and knitting little gowns to cloth her child. Jenny, who had discovered her own coming child a few months ago, shows her how to fold and diaper with the cloth clods. Jamie builds a cradle and a rocking chair. Brian pulls out the Christening gown his children used, presenting it to her. She wept.

She and Jamie choice Murtagh and Geillis as Godparents. “I would have picked you, Uncle Lamb, if you were committed to staying.” He has only agreed to stay until the baby is born.

“I understand love. Murtagh has done a fine job in that role for Jamie. I am sure he will for my grand nephew or niece.” Lambert is having trouble reconciling the pregnant lady with the wee girl his niece was not long ago. He feels such bittersweet pride whenever he looks at her.

She is rocking in the rocking chair when the first pain hits. She stills waiting to see if it will come again. It does and she pulls herself up and goes to find Jamie. He is in the barn. “Jamie.” He looks up and knows.

“It is time?” she can only nod as the pain returns, running through her like a vise. He comes up and takes her hands. She clings to him until the pain releases her. He hurries her back to the house calling for his family. Jenny takes her leading her to her room, stripping her down to her shift. Ian is dispatched to fetch the midwife.

“Oh my lamb. Is there anything I can do?” Uncle Lamb frets as he watches the pain run through here.

“Got in morphine handy.” She grunts.

“Sorry. Fresh out.”

“Well hell.”

A few hours later, the midwife and Jenny lead her around the room as the men drink and pace below them. “Jenny, I can’t do this!” The pains are coming every three minutes, as strong as the tides that shape the shore and she is exhausted.

“Mo phiuthar, ye are. Ye are stronger then ye ken ye are. Every pain brings the bairn closer.” They make another round around the room.

“I want Jamie!” she cries out a half hour later. The pains are right on top of each other and she needs him.

“It isna done. A lad in the birthing room.” The midwife relies.

“I want my husband! Now!” She growls.

“I will go get him.”

“Mistress Murray, ye canna.”

“Mo phiuthar needs him. I can.” She tells her before hurrying out and downstairs.

The men are sitting around the fireplace, all but Jamie. He paces back and forth. He stops when he sees Jenny approach.

“Is he here?”

“Nae. Close. Claire has need of ye bráthair.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the steps two at a time.

“Jenny, my niece, she is alright?”

“Aye Lambert, she is. I promise.” He sighs in relief as she runs back upstairs.

“Oh God! Oh hell! This bloody hurts!” She tells the room as Jamie supports her as she presses down in effort to bring the child into the world.

“Aye, but ye are almost done. I see the bairn's hair. Red like da's.” the midwife cheerfully says. Claire redoubles her efforts. A deep groan and breath and she starts pushing again. “Verra good.”

“Ye are the bravest lass I have ever known.” Jamie praises as she continues to push.

“Oh God! It burns!”

“The bairn’s head is emerging. It will stop in a moment.” Jenny wipes the sweat of her brow and whispers a continuous string of Gaelic. A prayer. Jamie holds tight to her hands as her helps her push off him. “There, the head is out. Just a bit more.” She presses down once more. The shoulders turn and slip out. “There ye go lass. Your nighean is here.”

“Daughter?” Jamie whispers.

“Aye, and a fine one she is.” She is lifted up to her parents.

“A daughter! We didn’t even..” she looks down at her through a film of tears. “Oh Jamie! She is so beautiful!”

“Aye, just like her mam.” His throat is filled. She has his hair, red and curled but her mam's whisky eyes. Her face, except for her cat like eyes, is all Claire.

The cord is cut after it stops throbbing, bringing the last of her mam's protective blood and a high dose of oxygen to her. The afterbirth is delivered and mam and daughter is cleaned up and placed on a clean bed.

The midwife helps her get the baby started nursing. She then leaves the little family alone. Jenny goes to tell the others.

“What shall we name her?” Claire asks Jamie. He is watching his daughter take her first meal with big wonder filled eyes.

“Oh my Sorcha, after all you went through to bring her birth, ypu may name her whatever you wish.

She strokes the incredible softness od her child's curls as she thinks. She then smiles. “Quinn Ellen Julia Fraser, after Uncle Lamb and her grandmas.”

“Quinn, for Quinton. I really love it. “Mo nighean, Quinn.” He softly says as he strokes her hand open. Her tight grip on his finger causes a wave of intense pride and love. “My braw lass.”

After she is feed, he goes to get his family. They file in and Jamie turns to Claire and the sleeping Quinn.

“My family, may I introduce, our daughter, Quinn Ellen Julia Fraser.” Claire says.

“After my Ellen.” An emotional Brian says.

“And your mum and me.” An equally emotional Lamb adds.

“Yes. To honor all her family. Come see her.” They do, each taking a turn holding her. Then all but Lamb leave the new mam to rest.

“To see your daughter, as beautiful as you were as a baby.” Lamb whispers as he looks at Jamie cradling his daughter. Claire watches with a love so deep she feels like exploding.

“I know. She is so beautiful. I can’t believe we made someone so lovely.”

“Your mum said something similar as she cradled you. She was just as awed.” The tears came then.

“Would she be proud of me?’”

“She would be over the moon proud of you Claire bear. She is looking down on you, both your mum's are, with extreme pride. Now rest love. I am sure you have earned it.”

“Oh she has.” Jamie replies.

Later as he watches his wife and daughter sleep, Jamie prays over them. “Mo Dhia, tapadh leibh airson mo bhean is mo pháiste. Cúm an sábhailte.”

The Gailec

My sister

Brother

Daughter

My daughter

My God, thank You for my wife and child. Keep them safe.